


Follow The Trail

by pottedmeat (myaso)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Belly Kink, Cunnilingus, Drabble, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, M/M, POV Second Person, Stuffing, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 18:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17208884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaso/pseuds/pottedmeat
Summary: Deacon and the Sole Survivor very rarely have time to indulge their kink, but this is one of those times.





	Follow The Trail

You didn't do stuff like this often, as much as you both wished that you did. You  _couldn't_ , really- not enough for it to have an effect, anyways.

"It's kind of ironic, right?"

You huffed, as Deacon started to gesticulate while you took his shirt off. You knew what he was going to say, and you were too focused on the task at hand to care, especially since it was basically the same thing whenever you did this.

"What is? And hold still."

It was better just to humor him, you thought. Deacon let out a laugh that sounded remarkably similar to your huff, and you were able to slide his stained shirt over his shoulders. It was so worn out that you probably could have left it on for this, and any food stains would be unrecognizable against the smattering of blood and dirt that already decorated it. There was some enjoyment, though, in tracing your hands over his scars- both those that he was proud of, and those that he would rather not discuss. He would smirk as you traced the scars underneath his mostly flat nipples, but the battle scars- the ones he  _couldn't_ control, that he had no say in- on those, he would shirk away your touch.

You didn't mind, because you knew exactly how it felt. The last time you had done this, he'd been the one stuffing you, going down on you, commenting on how you'd look so cute with a little muffin top. He was so shy about sex, and even though it was understandable, it felt good to pin him down and fuck him raw every once in awhile.

Deacon's voice was warm, but his body was still warming up.

"We're about to wolf down all the food those Raiders were hoarding...Makes you think how they'd react, huh?"

A hand on his throat, and he was quiet. There was no pressure behind it, no force, and you were only caressing- no, he had gone still because he enjoyed it. It was a silent way of telling him to behave, and he'd do the same to you.

"What's this 'we' you're talking about?"

Oh, that smile, even as you could see color filling his cheeks, or maybe especially as you could...it just made you want to press a fast forward button on all of this. Deacon's full lips began to stammer,

"Oh! N-nothing, boss, I mean you know I- I'm not gonna-"

"Relax," You stopped them moving with a kiss, and your hand ran through his wig like it was real hair. He always appreciated the gesture. "Let's get this over with, tubby."

It's all smiles between you as you open the first box of sugar bombs, feeding them to him by the handful. It's only a little odd to you, since the actual concept of 'junk food' that you remember is all but gone, now. You could stuff Deacon full of grilled lizard and he wouldn't complain, but using the old timey stuff just makes it feel a little more intimate. Less desperation, more...whatever, he was the poet of the bunch, wasn't he?

For now, though, those lips sucked sugar off of your fingers, those teeth chewed like he hadn't had a meal in ages. You only did this when you knew that you had the supplies to sustain it, though, and knowing that he'd  _intentionally_ had an empty stomach for this made it all the more attractive.

You kissed his neck as he worked through a sweet roll.

"I wish I could make you  _really_ fat."

"I know," He replies, through a mouthful of food. He wanted to get the words out just as much as he wanted to get the sweet in.

Your hands went to his stomach, less toned than yours, but still not close to chubby. It was the nature of the Wasteland, wasn't it? You could both transition, at only the cost of his once full head of hair (but he'd always,  _always_ say it was worth it), but you couldn't let yourselves be fat. In long layovers in Diamond City, you'd both indulge in the comforts of your own house, pretending to have the domestic life you were both robbed of. You'd be each others' tubby husbands, no threat of war either past or upcoming to take away your safety and comfort.

"Good job!"

Deacon groaned. You'd overdone it a little this time, caught up in your thoughts. You rubbed his taut and reddened belly, even pressing a kiss to it and the little happy trail there. You followed it down, unbuttoning his pants, and he groaned again for a different reason.

"Stop-  _urp_ \- I might barf."

"That bad?"

You looked up at Deacon, rubbing his belly and looking at you with a half smile. It must have been the eye contact between you that perked him up, and he continued,

"You know what? I think I'll live."

Smiling back, you followed the trail once more. Down his lower belly, down to his crotch, where you pulled back his underwear and stuck your face right in. He wasn't exceptionally hairy, but the little bush that he had was just so damn curly and adorable that you could never help but bury your face in it. For his own paranoia, you'd never openly discuss his natural hair color, but there was something about the mop of clearly blonde hair that made you giggle.

Before he could question you, you stuck out your tongue, eager to begin. His clit was already red and engorged, poking out of his foreskin just a bit; you helped it out by pinching either side gently, rolling back the skin. You were a little more rough than him, a little less sentimental.

Hearing him yelp right away was one of the most satisfying parts of these moments together. The luxury to be loud- to make Deacon shudder and shake beneath your mouth, feeling his thighs tighten and those wiry muscles twitch. Your face was nearly drenched in his natural lube by the time that he finally came, and, lacking quite as much of the stamina as you had, he tapped your head to let you know to let up.

You embraced there, Deacon still shirtless and with his pants down. You knew what he was going to say, but it was better just to let him say it.

"So, next time...your place or mine?"

"I'd say anywhere except a Raider shack sounds good."

**Author's Note:**

> You can go to my twitter (https://twitter.com/robotpornhell) to find out how to support me!


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